


After College

by CR11



Category: KARA (Band), TWICE (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Affairs, Alpha Jeon Jungkook, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Bad Boy Jeon Jungkook, Betrayal, Boys In Love, Break Up, Broken Promises, Bromance, Cheating, Childhood Memories, Closeted, Closeted Character, College, Comfort, Crushes, Dark, Declarations Of Love, Denial of Feelings, Depressing, Depression, Developing Friendships, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Friendship, Extramarital Affairs, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Female Friendship, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Enemies, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Getting Together, Gossip, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Jealousy, Jeon Jungkook & Kim Taehyung | V Are Best Friends, Jeon Jungkook Is Bad at Feelings, Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster-centric, Living Together, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Love/Hate, M/M, Male Friendship, Married Life, Memories, Mentioned Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Mentioned Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Murder, Mystery, One Shot, One Shot Collection, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Open to Interpretation, Past Relationship(s), Plot Twists, Post-Betrayal, Post-Break Up, Psychological Drama, Real Life, References to Depression, Romantic Friendship, Roommates, Sad, Sad Ending, Scandal, School, Secret Admirer, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Slice of Life, Suspense, Tragedy, True Love, Twisted, University, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-09 21:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CR11/pseuds/CR11
Summary: Ever wonder what happens to your college friends after graduation? What happens to the “it” couple that are still together? What about the international student that had to eventually go “home”? And the one that did nothing but study? How about the wild one that always partied? And the artsy, hipster one? Six characters with six stories. Shall we explore now?





	1. Cold Coffee

We all have bad habits that can’t be broken. I have a few that I don’t mind like not making my bed or forgetting to fold my clothes. Although there’s one that has bothered me, I always let that bad habit continue.

“Miss, would you like some more coffee?” the flight attendant walks by, holding onto some paper cups and a kettle of brewed coffee.

“No thank you,” I answer and continue to type on my laptop.

“Your coffee is cold already, you know?” my co-worker, Nam Gyuri, tells me. The two of us had flown to another city to meet a client to try to determine how to expand their market. We’ve travelled a lot together over the years since we entered the company together, so we know each other well enough that she isn’t afraid to point out my bad habits.

“Yeah,” My eyes still fixate on the screen, “I know.”

“Aren’t you going to finish it?” she asks. “You should throw it away if you’re not going to finish it.”

I ignore her suggestions. I know she means well, and I know that she is right. However, I don’t have the heart to throw something that is still edible, albeit bitter and gross, into the trash can. That just seems wasteful, yet for some reason, I never force myself to drink cold coffee. I just leave it hanging until either the cleaning lady comes by the office to lightly dust my place or if it’s at home, Namjoon, takes care of the leftover coffee. He drinks it for me. That’s probably the only thing that he does for me nowadays.

Nine years.

Namjoon and I have been together for nearly a decade that we’re probably already what people classify as the old, married couple. Our love story was simple and typical. We met in first year of college at a party. We started texting back and forth. Then, we would go on dates and within a few months, we were together. Second year of college was when we moved in together along with some other friends. The six of us, Jeon Jungkook, Han Seungyeon, Park Eunbin, Kim Namjoon, Jung Hoseok, and I, Song Jieun, lived in a big house. Seungyeon actually joined the house during our third year since she was two years younger than us, while Jungkook and Eunbin were a year older than us. Namjoon, Hoseok, and I were the only ones that moved in during our second year of university. After Namjoon and I graduated, we stayed in the same city, Seoul, but moved downtown to a small apartment that we rented together. We were hoping to buy a house together, yet even now, we’re still in the same old apartment.

“You’re lucky,” Gyuri all of a sudden announces. It’s odd because she’s usually the one that sleeps as if she were in a coma on the plane. I don’t blame her. We hardly get enough sleep these days when we’re trying to make pitches.

“Why is that?” I wonder as the flight attendant makes an announcement to buckle our seatbelts. The airplane is preparing to land, so I stow away my laptop into my bag.

“When you get home, you have someone waiting for you already,” Gyuri grumbles and crosses her arms. “I only have a fish swimming there.”

“I suppose,” I mumble, knowing that Namjoon has probably gone to bed. It’s a little over midnight, and he has that job interview in the morning.

“Say,” Gyuri continues to press, “when are you guys getting married?”

I’m always terrified of this question. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to dodge this one, but lately I keep hearing it over and over again, particularly from my family and my closest friends. Seungyeon nearly calls every month or so just to interrogate: “Has he asked you yet?”

“We haven’t thought about it,” I utter.

That’s the best I can come up with right now. To be honest, I’ve had the idea of marriage after we graduated. That’s when I started to see all of the engagement status updates on Facebook, the wedding photos, and then the baby news. Meanwhile Namjoon and I haven’t had any changes to our relationship. We’re living together as a couple. That’s all. Or perhaps … we’re more like roommates now.

Gyuri then adds, “You should probably think about it soon. You’ve been with him for how long now?”

“Nine years.”

“It’s about time, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

“Well, here’s a shocker for you. Lee Gookju got married recently, and her husband is loaded and super successful. Sure, he might be like … twenty years older than her, but hey, it worked out. Plus, she only met him for three months, and bang … marriage,” Gyuri explains. “If Gookju can make it happen, then so can you.”

Lee Gookju is someone that both Gyuri and I know. Gyuri has known her since elementary school, while Gookju happened to go to college with me. We were in the same major, business with a specialization in marketing. She was what everyone would called a Plain Jane. She was very quiet, docile, and had an ordinary face. No one had anything bad to say about her, yet no one could really remember what she was good at. Whenever it came to group projects and she was paired into a team, all the other members would wonder who this “Gookju” was.     

You can say that I was the opposite of Gookju. I had a strong opinion, ran for many club positions, and was nearly known across my major. I never considered myself pretty, but that word somehow rolled off of people’s tongues. In fact, I always felt uncomfortable whenever the first thing someone noticed about me was my alleged beauty. Was that what I was known for? What about my intelligence? I’ve had numerous people, particularly guys, who would tell me that they were very surprised that I was smart. They expected me not to have a brain.

So I was happy when Namjoon told me first that I had a kind heart before even mentioning a smile or some dimple. I thought he was paying attention to me and he used to … when things were rosier. He was even more popular than me and had a brilliant mind. He was the President of the Student Society of the college. He didn’t even delay a year of graduation and decided to take on that role while studying. He played on the varsity rowing team too. There was nothing off about him at all back then. Everyone knew that he was destined for success.

Yet …

I just smile at Gyuri and end the conversation. When the flight ends and I’m on my way home, I can’t help but think that it’s not as simple as Gyuri said. I can’t get Namjoon to just marry me. Plus, do we really have a future together? I keep wondering this question. If we’re already settled in a trial marriage and this is it, then what more can I expect? More problems when we have children? Will we even have children? I remember bringing up that topic with Namjoon once, and he told me he hated children. He didn’t even want a dog. He also said there was no time for children when he wanted to focus on his career.

When I arrive home, I’m not shocked to find the whole apartment a mess. Whenever I’m away on a business trip, the place is a pig’s pen. There are unwashed dishes waiting for mold to grow on them in the sink. Sweaty clothes are tossed on the couch. Bottles of empty soda cans rest on the coffee table. Namjoon is sometimes napping on top of some magazines or pillows on the couch or even the floor. At first, I would be mad at him for not cleaning after himself and would lecture him. We’d start fighting and he would argue that he had been busy looking for jobs or focusing on investing in stock. The fights would become so repetitive that I eventually gave up. I succumbed to his stubbornness and cleaned up the mess myself.

Namjoon used to be a neat freak. He would never have a dirty dish in the sink for longer than an hour. He always ironed his shirts as soon as they were dry. He never had to be reminded to take out the garbage. He hardly even ate junk food. Now, there are crumbs of chips, leftover pizza, and chocolate chip cookies all around the house. Sometimes I would catch him eating some crackers on the bed. I keep wondering what happened to the old Namjoon as I start to tackle the smelly plates.

“Oh. You’re back,” Namjoon murmurs in a groggy face while scratching his growing belly. I can tell that he hasn’t shaved in days and probably hasn’t showered for a while. His hair is so oily that I can see the glossy streaks.

“Yeah,” I answer quietly, letting the tap water mask my voice.

“You don’t have to wash those now if you’re tired,” Namjoon remarks.

“I can’t sleep if I see this mess,” I tell him.

“I was too busy figuring out what to invest in,” he explains.

My stomach almost falls when I hear the word “invest”. Last time, he used up our joint account to invest in some oil companies, but then the price of oil plummeted. We lost nearly all of our savings that were supposed to be used towards the purchase of our new home.

“Y-Y-You … didn’t—“

“Actually, I bought some—“

Clang.

A bowl slips out of my hand and hits the corner of the sink hard. I try not to raise my voice because it is late at night and the neighbours are probably asleep. However, I still hark, “You used our joint savings account?”

“Yeah. Where else would I get the—“

I toss the sponge in his direction. “You promised you wouldn’t!” I shriek.

“But I calculated. If we let it sit in the bank, there wouldn’t be any interest! You know how low—“

“I don’t care!” I yell. “You promised not to touch it.”

“We’d never be able to buy a house at that rate,” he marches to my side and counters.

Glowering at him, I throw the rubber gloves off and scoff, “We would if you could have just kept your job.”

“Why do you have to always bring that up?” His voice grows louder. “I told you that I quit because the boss was—“

“Idiotic, clueless, useless, arrogant and all your co-workers were like sheep!” I rehearse the lines that I’ve always heard from Namjoon. “But you know what? You couldn’t tough it out! I did the same stupid work as you in the beginning. Everyone does grunt work at first, but I made it through. You? What have you done?” I point at him and tell him.

“I’ve done a lot!” Namjoon moves closer to me, nearly towering over me. “I’ve been researching and finding some potential. I’ve been looking for jobs but they don’t see my potential. What am I supposed to do huh?”

“You could take lower paid jobs or even part-time positions. Maybe consider applying for entry-level—“

“I’m overqualified for those. What do you even take me for, Jieun? You think I’m stupid too?” Namjoon barks.

“No,” I correct him in a calm, collected tone. “I’m the stupid one.”

“So now what do you want to do?” he interrogates as I storm to my luggage which is still at the entrance of our apartment. “Walk out like this?”

I turn at my heel and shake my head. “I don’t know. I need some time to think,” I utter.

“I don’t need time to think,” Namjoon informs me. “Let’s break up, Jieun. I’m tired of you. You always look at the negative side of things. You never encourage me to follow my dreams, and I don’t need that type of negativity in my life. You’re not who I thought you were. I’ll move out by the end of the week. You can have this place to yourself.”

“Namjoon … you’re not—“

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he interjects. “I’ve thought about this for a long time. Ever since we moved here, everything has been wrong. You know, I never liked this place anyway. I just went along with you because you liked it.” Exhaling a short breath, he adds, “Heck, I’ve always been going along with what you think, and I’m fucking tired of that. We should have broken up earlier like right after we moved in.”

Without taking anything with him, Namjoon leaves the apartment before I can make my exit. I hear the slam from the door and I know that he won’t be coming back. He didn’t even take the keys with him. He just left like that, letting me sit on a dusty floor.

I cry. I cry not because he broke up with me, rather, I cry because of all the things he left me to digest. Namjoon had always thought of breaking up with me. He just kept delaying the notice. I’m not sure what he was hoping for. Did he think I’d change? Had I already been different from those days in college? Why does it seem like I’m at fault when I think about this logically … I’m the victim here? I’ve been working long hours, saving up everything I can into our joint account in hopes of getting enough money to buy our dream house. I also had problems at work initially. After all, I was just editing PowerPoint slides and making sure the fonts were all the same. I did repetitive, simple work when I expected to be involved with clients and brainstorming ideas. I suffered through nearly all the same things as him, yet I still held on because I wanted us to have a future together.

I tried to be encouraging. I’d ask my friends around to see if there were any open positions for associates, and if there were, I would suggest Namjoon to apply. At first, he listened, but after the constant nos, he gave up. He said he would look for a job by himself. Then, he started to become crazy about investing in lucrative stock. He would take great risks to hopefully win some money. Initially, he was successful and he would flaunt his success by treating me to expensive dinners and vacations. He would also treat himself to a set of new clothes. He splurged on everything and nothing was left for our “home”. He splurged because he believed he could make more. Unfortunately, he didn’t. He was addicted to this risk-taking behaviour. He was like a gambler, yet he wouldn’t admit it.

I still forgave him when he used our money, or at least, my money since he had been unemployed for several years. I forgave him because I thought he was thinking of the same dream as me. He just needed to try again and he could succeed. Everyone thought he would be successful. He was one of those types in the yearbook that would be voted most likely to be a billionaire. I thought so too.

Was that all I saw in him? No, I think back to the reason I dated him. He really knew me well and motivated me to be better than I was. He made me want to work harder and to be a better person. I wanted to match him, and now that I’ve surpassed him, I …

And to hear him say that I wasn’t who he thought I was … made me wonder what did Namjoon really see me as? An empty, glass vase?

I just bury my head into my knees and sob.      

I just wanted us to be happy, live comfortably, and to have a family. Why didn’t Namjoon want the same thing? How could he just say “break up” so easily?

Nine years … was gone in a few seconds and all I have left is a mess.

And I faintly remember what Hoseok told me a long time ago.

If you know you can’t finish your coffee, then just order a smaller size or pick another drink that tastes better when it cools down.

But somehow, I still order a large cup of hot coffee and think that I’ll be able to gulp it all down one day.


	2. Miss Winner

“Turn your head slightly to the left,” the photographer instructs me, “and relax your shoulders a bit. Place your hand under your chin and bend your fingers a tiny bit. Oh no! That’s too much. A little more now. Stop! Perfect. Now hold this pose.”

Flash. Flash. Flash.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Im Nayeon running in her nude stilettos with her auburn hair bouncing up and down. “Seungyeon,” Nayeon rushes to my side and tells me. “There is only fifteen minutes left till your next meeting. We’ll have to get going in five. It’s on the other side of the city, and you know how bad traffic can be during rush hour.”

“Heechul, I’m afraid we have to cut this photo shoot short,” I change into another pose for him while stating.

“But darling, it’s the top 10 under 40!” Heechul presses the shutter to his expensive camera. “And you’re on the cover! Don’t you want to look fab?”

I snicker and fling my hair over my shoulders, “But I am fabulous already aren’t I?” Knowing that I can’t be too arrogant now or else people will talk, I add, “I trust your skills! I’m sure you can pick the best photo.”

“Certainly honey!” Heechul gives me a thumbs up, which signals to me that I can leave. It’s about time anyway. I’ve gotten so stiff from all that posing and this super long ball gown I’m wearing has been too heavy for me.

As I stretch my arms, I glance at Nayeon once and immediately she has my vegetable smoothie. I’ve been going on a juice cleanse to be perfect for this photo shoot. I’m not going to let anyone bring me down, not anymore. I’m tired of being the one chasing after someone, always landing the number two spot.

I’ve never been lucky, unfortunately. I was born into a family living below the poverty line because the mother was stupid and decided to have a child at the age of 14. What was even sillier was that the mother quit school, became addicted to drugs and alcohol, and couldn’t even hold a job like prostituting. The father? The mother didn’t even know the father. He was probably one of hundreds of men she had slept with. What was even worse? The mother kept getting pregnant, and I was one of the older kids. Although the mother left me with my grandmother, I still had to look after my four younger siblings. My grandmother was too weak to take care of the kids. She only cared about playing cards and gambling with her neighbours. Fortunately, my older brother was shot during a gang fight and my other older sister never bothered to keep in contact with me.

At a young age, I learned how to earn money. I wasn’t like those rich, spoiled brats who just had to do well in school. I had to do odd jobs here and there just to feed myself and to pay for my own education. I entered college three years later because I had to save up for rent and textbook fees. Luckily, no one suspected my age due to my baby face. I always pretended that I was the age that I was supposed to be in college—eighteen upon entering first year. I was smart enough to have a fully paid scholarship, so I didn’t need to worry for my tuition. Still, I kept working part-time as a tutor during undergrad and then started a tutoring company that became one of the nation’s biggest enterprises.

Finally, I was on top of the world, looking down at those that kept making fun of my soiled clothes. And finally . . . I beat Jieun. If there’s one person that I hate in this world, it’d have to be Jieun. She embodied everything that I despised. She was the girl who was blessed with beautiful looks, yet kept refuting that she was pretty. She was that insecure, little bitch that constantly fed on more compliments, and all the men gave them to her. They adored her. No, almost everyone loved her. She was smart, but not extremely smart. She didn’t need to work very hard, and she would still get her As.

Meanwhile, I had to review and preview every night. I lived on caffeine and before exams, I would always take Adderall. I hardly had time to go out or have a social life. I was only in two places: the classroom or my room. I didn’t care if I lacked friends because I knew I had to work hard to succeed. All this hard work would pay off. Someday, someone will see the fruit of my labour. The whole world will be admiring me, craving to be me and not that bitch, Jieun.

Jieun took everything from me. Her perfect boyfriend, Will, should have been with me. I was more than intelligent enough for him, and I understood him. He didn’t come from a wealthy family. He told me before that he always had to pretend that he could relate to Jieun and her crowd when he could barely stand yacht rides, cabin getaways, and little trips to somewhere exotic. Namjoon and I were meant to be with each other. We connected emotionally, yet I knew that he was never physically attracted to me after that night at the bar.

It was finally the end of my all of my final exams during my second year of college and I knew that Namjoon would be graduating. For once, I decided that I would go out and party for the night. Everyone living at our house had decided that they would celebrate and take me out. Because I had to finish my part-time work, I left from work and wore a long plain t-shirt, cheap twenty-dollar sneakers, and a pair of baggy jeans. I still wore glasses at this point, didn’t touch make-up, and was on the heavier side. It was easy for me to naturally gain weight in my thighs and stomach, and I never bothered to go to the gym. After all, all my time was dedicated to studying and working. I didn’t think that being objectively beautiful was that important. I was still naïve and thought that as long as one person appreciated me for who I was, that would be enough.

However, I quickly learned that not one, not even one person, liked me for me. I still remember that night too clearly.

“Seungyeon! Over here!” Jieun waved at me with her annoying bangles clanging against each other on her wrist. She was wearing a fitted, little black dress that hugged her curves at the right spots.

As I approached her, I could see Namjoon and Hoseok chatting to the right of Jieun. “Hey Seungyeon,” Namjoon greeted me with a sweet smile.

Hoseok only lifted his bottle of beer at me without saying a word. He was one of those cocky, silent types that would look at someone with a condescending stare. He didn’t need to utter a word and I knew that he thought I was ugly and stupid. Sadly, Hoseok could get away with these demeaning gazes because of his blessed looks. He had a nice rounded forehead, defined cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a straight nose with a nice tip. What made other girls swoon over him was the fact that he was born in Tokyo, Japan and lived there throughout his life. He was the sort where his descendants were Korean but settled in Japan for very long time. His pathetic Japanese accent boosted his status when he did nothing compared to Namjoon. Namjoon actually worked for his grades, his positions in clubs, and had scholarships. Needless to say, I hated him just as much as I detested Jieun. I always thought they should have been together.

_Multiple times, I would purposely throw hints at Hoseok that Jieun liked him. Hoseok only replied with a few one-liners and never seemed interested in what I had to say. There was once, however, that he spoke to me first and that was only because I was throwing away cookies that Jieun had baked for the house. She had given me a little goodie bag and said that since it was getting close to Christmas, she wanted to give me something before the break started. Her fake personality made me want to vomit, so of course I wasn’t going to eat something made by her. Like I said many times, I was never lucky. Thus, when I was about to toss the cookies into the trash can at the kitchen, Hoseok remarked, “If you don’t want them, then give them to someone else. Don’t you think it’s wasteful to throw away food?”_

_“You can have them then,” I rolled my eyes and handed him the bag. “I don’t like sweets.”_

 

_“Oh really? How come I remember seeing you eating some Mars bars a few days ago?” he intentionally noted._

 

_“Why do you even care?” I barked. Before he even had the chance to reply, I announced, “Oh right! You’re in love with Jieun who doesn’t even like you that way. What a shame. I was actually hoping you two would be together. Like-minded people should be together.” I could see his surprised expression, probably wondering how I even knew about his feelings for Jieun. It wasn’t too hard for anyone to figure that out. I was more than sure that Namjoon knew how Hoseok felt towards Jieun. “You know, we could make an alliance?” I suggested out of the blue. “It’d work to our advantage.”_

 

_“Tu es folle. You’re cr-crazy,” Hoseok stared at me coldly and answered._

 

_“You’re the one that’s crazy,” I pointed out. “You’re a coward too, so you’re always going to be a loser.”_

 

_“I have my principles,” he replied._

 

_I scoffed at him, “In this world, what are principles? It’s a dog eat dog world. Oh wait. Is that too hard for Mr. Jappie to understand? Do you want me to simplify that for—“_

 

_“Don’t be condescending now.”_

 

_“Wow! Condescending! What a hard word!” I clapped my hands to give him a round of applause._

 

_Hoseok shook his head before stating, “You know why people don’t care about you?”_

 

_“Why? Enlighten me!”_

 

_“Because you’re ugly inside and out.”_

That was the biggest joke of the year that I heard from Hoseok, yet his words were like a curse. That night at the bar, Namjoon bought me a few shots and all of us were drinking. For some reason I let Jieun drag me to the dance floor and she kept dancing beside me. It was getting so hot that I needed a breath of fresh air. From far away, I could see Namjoon near the open patio. I was feeling brave so I decided to greet him even though he was chatting with another guy friend. I didn’t care if they were still talking and I just interrupted, “Hey Namjoon! Whatcha up to?”

“Oh Namjoon, who’s this?” Namjoon’s guy friend asked. “I didn’t know that you’d know someone like her.”

“Oh um . . . Seungyeon, this is Jungkook, but you can just call him JK,” Namjoon said. “JK, this is Seungyeon. She’s living at 409 with us.”

“Nice to meet you!” Jungkook shouted and shook his hands with me. “I used to live at 409 too but I graduated last year.”

“I see,” I murmured. I had already taken a glance at him and knew that he had been one of those jocks. He still had muscular arms that showed through his button down shirt. The way he spoke too reminded me too much of a typical jock with no brains.

“So you don’t come out much huh?” Jungkook blurted.

“What do you mean by that?” I wondered.

“Well, look at what you’re wearing. Baggy jeans and a t-shirt?” He inched a bit closer to examine my face. “You’re not even wearing make-up. You’re a nerd huh? It’s too bad. You’d probably look a whole lot better without your glasses.” Before I could argue, Jieun had arrived with another girl. “Eunbin!” Jungkook instantly jumped forward to give her a hug. “Dude, where’ve you been?”

“Travelling?” this new girl with very hippy, slouchy pants, a bright turquoise Indian style top, and lots of piercings on her ears, replied.

“What are you up to this time?” Jungkook questioned.

“Eunbin has visited . . . 40 countries now?” Jieun responded for her.

“43 actually,” Eunbin said.

What a show off, I thought. Eventually, I went home earlier and rode alone in the cab. No one noticed I was going to leave besides Jieun. She even pretended to feel sad about my departure and kept asking me to stay longer. She said it wouldn’t be safe for me to leave by myself and even offered to go home with me. If I actually let her go home with me, everyone would say that I was a party pooper. In the end, I left by myself and quietly cried in my bedroom. I remember looking the mirror and noticed how awful my skin was, how fat my stomach became, how hideous my uneven eyes were, and how pig-like my nose was. I was ugly and I dressed horribly. Jieun was pitying me because I was ugly, and I hated her even more for that.

After that night, I vowed to change. I exercised every day. I cut back on sweets and junk food. I focused solely on eating healthy and sleeping early. Even though I gained a set of rock hard abs, I still felt like something was missing. My face was off, yet I didn’t have enough money for plastic surgery. With my good physique, I attracted a lot of attention and started to get favours done by guys. I knew there was something that I could do there, so I decided that I would sleep with the guy that could give me the most money or advance my career.

Around graduation, I needed some money for my tutoring company. I also needed someone to develop some software. I managed to find just the guy; a thirty-year-old software engineer who was desperate for a girlfriend and a rich fifty-six-year-old business man who was tired of his wife. They gave me enough money to launch my business and to get a full face makeover. I even flew to Korea for the best surgeons to work on me. People now say that I look like Audrey Hepburn. You can call that sleeping your way to the top, but I don’t think so. I think if I were born with assets that could be used, why not? I worked hard for my own business.

In the car ride with Nayeon, she hands me a binder of notes. “Here’s the information about Dr. Kim’s company,” she informs me.

I pretend to read what she has made before telling the driver, “Please pull over now.”

“Seungyeon, are you dropping me off randomly again?” Nayeon gawks at me with much disappointment. “Are you actually not going to—“

“Nayeon, sweetie,” My hand strokes her back up and down a few times as I whisper in her ear, “you know that this is just for business.”

“B-B-But—“

I nibble at her ear and kiss her neck briefly. “You’re the most important to me,” I mumble.

“F-F-Fine,” she grumbles and opens the car door. “Give me a call when you’re done.”

I blow her a kiss before ordering the cab driver to drive. That Nayeon is so easy to read. When I first saw her, I knew that she was infatuated with me. She would do her utmost to please me and always listened to me. That’s why I hired her and kept her close to me. I need someone that will kill for me or that will die for me.

As for Dr. Kim Hongbin, he was one of the most prominent entrepreneurs in the country. He too started with nothing and due to his research capabilities, he invented something that all the pharmaceutical companies wanted. I met him at a Gala two years ago; I only attended that to see him. I was going to be in his life one way or another, and I didn’t care if he had a ring on his finger or how many kids he had. In the game of love, it’s really a lifelong marathon, and I always win marathons.

Theo booked us a private room for VIPs in a high-class Japanese restaurant. We never dine at the same place in fear of people finding out about our relationship. I also date other people, but that of course, he doesn’t know. He is too busy flying here and there to keep track of my dates. Whenever he is back in town, my eyes are all on him. He is already sitting across from me, drinking some sake when I say, “Long time no see.”

“You want a drink?” He leans his hand into his cheek and suggests.

“No. I can’t drink,” I emphasize these words. His eyes glaze over me as he reaches to fill his cup with more sake.

“You know we can’t have that happen,” he tells me.

“So you want to kill your own blood,” I huff and nonchalantly take a look at the menu. “That’s how it is, isn’t it? You’re perfectly fine taking risks, not even wearing a condom, yet you won’t take responsibility.”

Theo cocks his head backwards and guffaws. “Hahaha!”

“What’s so funny?” I bark.

“It’s not that I won’t,” he replies. “It’s more like I can’t. My wife and I didn’t want kids anymore, so I got a vasectomy. So . . . whatever you have in there, that’s not mine.”

“Pass the sake,” I order.

“You sure?” Theo slyly questions.

I show him my perfect smile and notify him, “Don’t you think I can win the Oscar? You clearly fell for my acting!”

Theo watches me gulp down all of the sake and then chuckles. “Haha.”

“What’s the joke this time?” I wonder.

“You’re either the best actress I’ve met or you’re . . . crazy,” he states.

I take the bottle of sake from him and pour some more into my cup. “Maybe I’m a bit of both,” I tease.

At least after this dinner, I know that it’s likely over between the two of us. I’m mostly crushed because the ticket to a fine life is gone, but I’m not that bothered. I already have my own mansion, and I have the perfect trophy substitute. A woman always needs a back-up plan. I can’t wait for this explosion to erupt; what I have planned will be spectacular.

Why am I so certain?

I made it of course.

And I never fail.

 


	3. Smoothie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jung Hoseok moves back to Seoul and reunites with his friend, Lee Jieun.

I’m waiting at the arrivals section of the airport for Jieun. Eunbin had emailed me to tell me that Jieun was living in the city that I was being relocated to for work and suggested that Jieun could give me a ride. My first thought was can she drive? Eunbin assured me that Jieun would be a good driver. She always followed rules. Indeed, Jieun was the type that would never jay walk, never cheat on a test despite knowing that she would never be caught, and never I’m scanning the area back and forth, yet my sleeve keeps getting tugged by Suzuki Doyoung, my seven-year-old niece. Usually, she can trick anyone with her clear chestnut doe-like eyes and curly dark hair, but I’ve raised her for three years now so I know exactly what she is like.

“Doyoung, be good now,” I tell her.

I ignore her tugs while continuing to look for Jieun’s car. She said she’d be here in ten minutes, but twenty minutes have already passed. I haven’t gotten a cell phone here, so it’s not very convenient to call. I’m too bothered to ask a stranger to borrow his or her phone. Hopefully, Jieun will arrive soon.

“But Dad, I just saw someone with balloons!” Doyoung exclaims.

I glance down at her and propose, “Doyoung, can you look for a silver Toyota car for me?” There’s no point in telling her the car model. She only cares about a few things in life: Disney princesses, ponies, cupcakes, and clothes.

“They’re all silver, Dad!” she groans.

Sometimes, I wonder why I even agreed to be a father at this age, and I constantly have to remind her, “Doyoung, I’m not your Dad. I’m Uncle Hoseok.”

“No!” She stomps her foot and screams. “You’re my Dad.”

An old lady passing by all of a sudden comments, “Your daughter is adorable. You’re so lucky to have her.”

I wasn’t even supposed to have her. My older sister, Nami, was Doyoung’s mother. Doyoung’s father was Nami’s partner, Suzuki Teru. Nami passed away tragically one year after I graduated from college. At that time, Doyoung was only four years old. Nami didn’t die in a car accident nor did she die due to an incurable disease. Teru had stabbed her thirty-three times; she had actually suffered years of abuse yet never told my father, my mother, or me of her situation. She probably didn’t want us to worry. I should have known what was going on when Nami always wore long-sleeved shirts and long pants or skirts. Sometimes, she would have a black eye or a swollen face, but she would quickly explain that she had fallen down the stairs or accidentally tripped. Doyoung, too, sometimes had odd scars on her body that I later realized were cigarette burns.  

When the police found Doyoung, she was covered all in blood and apparently she kept calling for Mommy and trying to wake Nami up. Her father, on the other hand, had allegedly committed suicide. My parents were too traumatized to adopt Doyoung. After all, she looked exactly like Nami. Seeing a constant reminder of their deceased daughter was too much for my parents to handle. I didn’t have the heart to give Doyoung up for adoption, so I decided to raise her as my own, except I didn’t want her to see me as her father. That would mean that my sister’s presence had completely disappeared. I wanted Doyoung to remember her mother at least, yet Doyoung never talked about Nami or her father. She seemed to pretend that none of this had ever happened, that it was some bad nightmare, and that I was actually her real father.

The world, however, did not forget about Nami. She had turned into a symbol of battered women. Her story had sparked the activists’ interests and they used her life to further their cause. Whenever I went out with Doyoung, people would recognize her. They would approach me to confirm, “That’s Nami’s daughter, isn’t it?”

I used to say yes, but after saying that, they would start questioning me. Who was I? What relationship did I have with Doyoung? If I were Nami’s brother, then why hadn’t I stopped the abuse? How could I have not seen the signs? Occasionally, I would have some women hit me and reprimand me for not standing up for my own sister. I’d let them hit me. I probably deserved it. Really, I should have known.

“Dad, you’re making that face again!” Doyoung unexpectedly points out.

“What face?” I wonder.

“Like when Winnie the Pooh doesn’t get his honey!” she explains.

“Ha.”

_Hoseok, I think you’d make a good father._

 

_What makes you say that, sis?_

_Doyoung always sleeps so soundly after you read her a bedtime story. Really, thank you. There was party tonight at the house, so I couldn’t look after her. I know you’re tired during the weekend too._

_It’s fine. Doyoung is a good girl, though . . . maybe too good? She is very quiet._

_She is just shy with strangers, but I think she likes you!_

_Really? She hardly even talks to me or looks me in the eye._

_She talks about you a lot! She says you often look sad._

_I look sad? I’m not really thinking much though. You know me . . ._

_Haha! You should smile more! Like this. Smile! Smile! Smile!_

“Dad!” Doyoung shrieks, bringing me back to reality. “There’s a lady that keeps honking and waving at us!”

“Oh, that’s my friend, Jieun,” I respond and instantly push the cart with our luggage.

Jieun gets out of the driver’s seat and helps me load some luggage. “Long time no see, Hoseok!” She greets me with a slight wave after placing Doyoung’s pink Hello Kitty luggage in the trunk.

Immediately, I toss my black suitcase beside Doyoung’s luggage and then give Jieun a hug. I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time now. I haven’t seen her after we graduated from college. Five years have gone by, yet she still occupies a corner of my mind. I’ve tried to tuck her away or erase her from my memories, but that only makes her presence grow stronger. It’s just like how little things will often remind me of Nami. It’s only when someone is gone do you realize how much that person means to you.

I must have gripped her too tightly because I can feel her squirming a bit. As I let her go, I mutter, “It’s been a while.”

I don’t let the “I miss you” slip from my mouth. That sounds too corny. I settle on pretending that it’s no big deal and continue to load the luggage in the car. When we finally take our seats in the car, Jieun turns her attention to Doyoung who is still putting on her seatbelt. “Hi, I’m Lee Jieun, and you are?”

Doyoung ignores Jieun’s greeting and after figuring out how to wear the seatbelt, she just stares at Jieun. “She’s Doyoung,” I answer for her. “Doyoung, didn’t I tell you that you have to say hello to people you meet?”

“You told me not to speak to strangers,” she barks.

“Jieun is not a stranger,” I argue. “She is a friend of mine and she has been kind enough to pick us up from the airport, so what do you say, Doyoung?”

Doyoung glimpses at the window and mumbles quietly, “Thank you.”

“Sorry about that,” I apologize to Jieun who starts the engine and checks her left for any oncoming cars.

Jieun answers, “That’s okay. I’ve never really been popular among kids.”

“But I thought you liked kids?” I note.

“I do, but for some reason, they never seem to like me,” Jieun comments.

Accidentally, I blurt, “I thought by now you’d have kids.”

After a minute or so, Jieun replies, “I . . . thought so too.” Instantly, she forces a grin while adding, “But you know life is unexpected! Isn’t that what makes life . . . exciting? I never thought you’d have a kid now. You’re probably married by—“

“I’m not married,” I correct her.

“Sorry. I just assumed. I really shouldn’t have thought that . . . when you probably—“

“I didn’t get a divorce,” I explain.

Before I can add anything further, Doyoung bellows in French, “Dad, you already have me! Don’t you dare marry her or anyone! I don’t like her! She’s annoying, ugly, fake, and—“

I snap at her in Japanese, “Doyoung, you cannot use that kind of language. You have only met her once. What do you know?”

“I hate you!” Doyoung screams again in Japanese. “You’re stupid!”

“I’m taking away your Barbie and no dessert or sweets for the whole week,” I order. Doyoung just ignores me and crosses her arms. She has a very sinister and angry glare, the type that reminds me of her birth father. I never liked him much. Teru was one of those sly, arrogant guys who thought he was entitled to everything in the world. He came from an elite, aristocratic family and never knew about anything related to responsibility. I never understood why my sister even loved him. I could only see his flaws, yet Nami always reminded me that Teru was only immature and that he had a soft, tender heart. From what I remembered, he liked to show off his riches by buying the latest sports cars and owning the most popular gadgets.

I was sure that he only saw my sister as a trophy. She was always known for her angelic looks and was often scouted to be a model. She could have had a great career as a model had she not stayed by Teru’s side. Unfortunately, they met when they were very young. Nami and I went to the same private high school, and while she was Ms. Popular, I was Mr. Nerd. She was part of a lot of clubs and joined the school’s competitive dance team. Teru was also one of the popular ones and pursued her for a whole year during high school. They got together during grade eleven and at that point, I had just entered high school.

As soon as they became a couple, Teru clung to her like glue. He wanted her all to himself, caging her like a canary. He decided how she would dress. He would monitor her weight; often I would see her weighting herself before leaving the house. She told me that Teru wanted her to be just 46 kg even when she was 5’9. He wouldn’t let her eat certain food. Wherever she went, she would have to report to him. The longer she was with him, the more I felt like her soul was disappearing. That liveliness and spark in her eyes were slowly fading. I knew that she was killing herself, but at that time, I thought if she was fine like that, that was enough. I had too much going on at that time. I just wanted to study in a different country and start a new life.

I look out the car window and am reminded of the familiar sky that I used to see out of that house’s window. “You’re lucky,” Jieun notifies me. “It was raining all throughout last week and even yesterday.”

“Oh wow. I guess I am lucky,” I agree.

“The weather is even welcoming to Seoul!” Jieun jokes. “But I’m glad.”

“Glad?”

“That you’re back,” she says. The corners of Jieun’s lips curve upwards as her eyes are fixated on the road ahead. Eunbin was right. Jieun really does follow rules.

I stretch my arms forward and concur, “It’s good to be back too.”

“How long will you be here for this time?”

“At least four years. Depends on my performance here,” I respond.

“What are you doing again for work?”

“I’m a lawyer now,” I say. “I’m doing some franchising law with fashion and retail brands.”

“Wow. That’s pretty cool! But that’s really different from what I thought . . .”

“Yeah I know. It’s different from economics, but I think this is better.”

“That’s good to hear,” she mumbles.

“What about yourself?” I take a quick glimpse at her fingers. No rings. “You and Namjoon married yet?”

“Oh. Ha. That,” she sighs. “We broke up almost six months ago?”

Eunbin’s news is still good then. I’m surprised how Eunbin still manages to keep in contact with everyone the house, even Hanyeong. I’m tempted to be happy about this news, but I still force myself to answer, “Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jieun reassures me. “It’s not your fault that we broke up. It was . . . going to happen in a matter of time anyway. We were . . . what do you call that? I can’t seem to think of that word. Gosh. I’m getting old, aren’t I, Hoseok?”

“We’re both the same age, so are you saying that I’m old too?” I tease her.

“No, no, no. That wasn’t what I meant. I’m just so forgetful these days,” she adjusts her sentence.

“You were always forgetful,” I remind her.

“What? No!”

“You often forgot where your keys were. You once went out in your pajama bottoms. You forgot to wear a bra a few times, so you had to borrow my jacket. You put sugar instead of salt in a pot of stew. Oh, what else was there? You walked to the wrong classroom for—“

“Stop! Stop!” she interrupts me. “How do you even remember all these things?”

“Because I’m a genius!” I chuckle.

No . . . it’s because . . . I’ve always noticed you. I was the one that watched you first. Namjoon only cared about you after he recognized that I had a crush on you and after I pointed out your good points. He even asked me about your interests, pet peeves, and habits. I was the one that identified how you never finish your coffee. I just didn’t think of being the one to drink it. There were so many things that I could have done for you, yet I let Namjoon steal all of my ideas. I advised him since he was a good friend of mine, and I thought that you two matched. You both reminded me of the Prince and the Princess in a fairy tale, and somehow I wanted to complete that picture.

Why? Because I knew I couldn’t stay by your side. I knew I had to go “home” someday, so why start something that I knew would end eventually? Those were legitimate reasons, but I knew they were actually excuses. Secretly, I was afraid that our relationship would change. What if you rejected me? What if we couldn’t even be friends? What if we actually started something and then ended? What then? I also knew that I didn’t match you. Despite how much I had changed from middle school, I still felt that you would never see me in that way. You were too good for me, way out of my league.

Out of the blue, Jieun comments, “I think . . . you’re a good father.”

“I’m actually her uncle,” I finally get the chance to clarify. “She’s my sister’s, but I’ve adopted her now.”

“Wow. That’s very . . .”

“There was no one to take care of her after my sister passed away.”

“I see. Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” I remind her. “Like you said to me, it’s not your fault. Things just sort of ended up like this.”

“But . . . you’re happy right?” she ponders.

“I . . . haven’t given that that much thought. You? Are you happy?” I pose the question back to her.

Jieun shrugs her shoulders, answering, “I haven’t thought about that either. I’ve been busy sorting out my life without Namjoon. It’s sort of weird . . . being single after you’ve been in a relationship for a while? Especially when he and I did live together for several years. It can get . . . kind of lonely sometimes.”

“You’re still living at the place you both lived before?” I interrogate.

“The rental contract wasn’t up yet, so I couldn’t go anywhere. I’ll have to move by the end of this month though. The problem is I haven’t had time to look for places and it’s February. People don’t exactly move out now.”

Eunbin again has given me the right news. She told me that Jieun was in the process of finding a new place to live, so I should find an apartment that has at least three bedrooms. “You can stay at my place for now?” I suggest.

“Oh no. That wouldn’t be right.”

“No it’s fine,” I encourage her. “I found a place with three bedrooms and three bathrooms.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll pay you rent. I don’t feel comfortable living there for free.”

“Sure if that makes you feel better.”

Our conversation dies down until we arrive at my new apartment. Jieun helps us place our luggage there and I take the chance to show her the new bedroom. Doyoung is still ignoring me, but that’s okay.I know her temper will subside after Jieun leaves. Doyoung just likes to hog all of my attention, which can be kind of bothersome. I’m always afraid that she will turn out to be like her father, but I’m hoping that she’ll learn to be independent. She needs to learn to love others too and living with Jieun will help, I think.

* * *

 

Jieun moved in within a week after picking us up at the airport. We’ve been living together for a month now, and Doyoung is slowly opening up to Jieun. I think it’s because Jieun will bring her presents after travelling for her job. Doyoung now, at least, greets Jieun in the mornings while I make breakfast for everyone. Jieun has tried to cook but that led to a greasy disaster. The fire trucks almost came to our place and the whole apartment smelled like smoke. Apparently she got too fixated on this Youtube video that was showing her how to make the perfect steak that she forgot that she had been boiling eggs.

“Hey Hoseok,” Jieun announces after taking a bite of her waffle. “I’ve been wondering this for a while now.”

“What is it?” I ask and chop up some more fruit.

“Why did you really come back here? I mean, all of your friends and family are in Japan. You also studied law there, so why would you even . . . I just can’t wrap my mind around this,” she utters, “and I don’t get why you’d even let me stay here.”

“I’m not as kind as you think I am, Jieun,” I purposely make eye contact with her and inform her.

“No,” she refutes. “You’re really nice. You just offered me a place. You cook breakfast and dinner for me and sometimes pack me lunch. You’ve always—“

“Jieun, there’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world,” I interject before tossing all of the fruit and some ice into a blender.

As I press the blend button, Jieun retorts, “But we’re friends?”

I push myself to return a grin and wait a few more minutes before everything blends perfectly. Then, I pour the drink into a glass and offer it to Jieun. “Here. Try this smoothie,” I propose. “You don’t need to worry about it getting cold and tasting bad. It’s probably healthier for you than caffeine.”

Jieun seems to understand what I’m implying because she stays quiet and hesitates to accept the drink. “What’s in this smoothie?” she asks.

“Raspberries, blackberries, yogurt, and bananas. I can change it to other flavours in the future if this doesn’t suit you.”

“Hoseok . . .” Her voice nearly cracks. “How long have you . . .”

I confess, “When you stopped me from throwing my bottled water into the trash, I remembered you.”

Jieun and I met at that house. I had picked that place because the rent was cheap and the location was close to school. I was also hoping to meet new friends by having roommates. Even though I wanted a university debut, I didn’t make one. Old habits were hard to die. I still preferred eating by myself, studying, or watching movies by myself. Jieun and I met at the backyard. I was too lazy to sort the trash, so I tossed my bottled water and other garbage into the trash can only to be yelled at by Jieun.

_Stop! That’s not right! You should recycle. Do you know how bad bottled water is?_

 

_No?_

_You should really consider buying your own thermos or bottle. I can give you one? I have an extra one somewhere._

_Are you always this friendly to strangers?_

 

_You’re not really a stranger right? You’re living here at this place with us right? I actually saw you coming in with your luggage, but I thought it’d be bad to bother you when you just moved in. You probably would like to unpack first. Oh, what’s your name? I’m Lee Jieun!_

_Jung Hoseok._

Tears start falling down Jieun’s cheeks even though her eyes haven’t blinked. “Why are you crying?” I wonder.

“I’m sorry.” She grabs a tissue from the tissue box on the counter and blows her nose. “I never knew. I was so . . . so stupid.”

“Well now you know,” I mumble. “I know it’s too much to take right now, especially before work, but you don’t have to accept any time soon.”

Since she hasn’t even touched the smoothie in front of her, I reach forward to take away the drink. I’m about to touch the rim of the glass when she shouts, “Wait! I never said I wouldn’t drink it. It’s such a waste to see something you made go to waste.”

Then, Jieun takes a big sip of the smoothie and wipes her mouth clean with the back of her hand. “So how was it?” I ask her.

“It’s great!” she compliments. “It’s not too sweet or sour! It’s just right.”

“So . . . you don’t mind having this every day now instead of coffee?” I confirm.

She takes a minute or two to understand what I’m hinting. Then, Jieun’s face turns bright red and she looks away. “I-I-It might take some time to get used to, but th-th-they say good habits take longer to develop anyway,” she stammers hastily.

At that moment, I really want to embrace Jieun and give her a deep kiss, but Doyoung rushes out from the bathroom and begs, “I can’t tie my hair! Dad!”

I dash to her side and help braid her hair. By the time I’m finished with Doyoung’s hair, Jieun has already left work. However, I notice that the smoothie has been finished. There is just an empty glass on the counter top, and I can’t help but smile to myself.

“Dad . . . why are you smiling?” Doyoung ponders. “It’s kind of . . . creepy!”

_Hoseok, no matter happens to you, just remember . . . don’t ever give up and just smile! Smile! Smile! Smile!_


	4. Give and Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeon Jungkook is married and has a family, yet he still feels empty. He attends a high school reunion where he meets Kim Taehyung again.

The subway ride back to a four bedroom house my wife and I have in the suburbs has become part of my routine. I find myself staring at the tired, bored faces of fellow commuters. We are all sick of work. We’re just working to make ends meet. I’m just working to support my family. I have a standard job as a high school teacher at a private school. This job was something that I never thought I would do, but I should appreciate this ordinary life that I now have.

Ordinary. That is a word that has never been used to describe my life up to the end of college. My life was always extraordinary, but throughout my extraordinary period, I always thought every day was ordinary. I had a driver that picked me up from elementary school to high school. I had my own credit when I was twelve and I could sign anything. There was no limit. I had a personal chef at home and a personal trainer. I took piano lessons from a renowned retired pianist. I went to elite schools built for the wealthy, yet no one seemed very rich to me. Almost everyone else was like me. We were born with a vague idea about poverty—just hearsay to us. We didn’t need to work very hard and everything came easily. The best college? That was definitely attainable. Father just needed to donate a library or a stadium. Plus, all of our family members graduated from the best colleges.

_The next stop is . . ._

Like a robot, I get up from my seat and walk towards the subway doors. After getting off this stop, I go to the parking lot and then drive forty-five minutes back home. When I arrive home, my four-year-old daughter, Bomi, rushes to greet me. I let her jump into my arms as I carry her into the kitchen to find my wife, Jihyo, setting the dinner table.

“You’re just in time, Jungkook,” she says the same line every day. “Today it’s mandu, short ribs, and broccoli.” Then, she explains how this time she added this ingredients to make this dish different and that she hopes I’ll like the changes.

“Sounds good,” I find myself always replying. “I’m sure it’ll be yummy.”

“I hope so! You know Bomi can be so picky with her food . . .” she murmurs while heading to the kitchen drawers for the cutlery. “Like you.”

I place Bomi in her seat at the dining table and answer, “Sorry that she probably got that from me. At least both of us dislike the same things.”

“Yes, but you should set a good example for her . . .”

All I hear is blah, blah, blah and I distract myself by asking Bomi how her day was and if she washed her hands. Bomi says, “Good! We read a book today at the library.”

“Oh. What book?”

“Disney!”

“Disney isn’t a book,” I remind her.

“Cinderella!”

“I didn’t know they taught kids that so early already,” I mumble to myself.

Jihyo all of a sudden hollers, “Did you even hear what I was saying, Jungkook?”

“Sorry,” I apologize. “I was talking to our little princess.”

“You spoil her too much,” Jihyo complains. “You don’t even know how hard it is to take care of her. I wish your parents would consider looking after her. That way, I can go back and work. You know how babysitters can be so expensive and even daycare . . .”

Again, Jihyo drones on and on about how much she wants to go back and teach. Jihyo and I met while I was interning at a high school for my education program. She was already teaching at that place and was my supervisor. At that time of my life, I was lost and felt forced into this profession. I had studied History in college and although I sometimes had dreams of becoming a historian and a professor, those dreams collapsed when my father’s company went bankrupt after I graduated from college. Our family went from everything to nothing so quickly. My father tried his best to find work, but no one would take a prominent past CEO. In the end, a close friend of his felt sorry for him and so my father became his friend’s personal driver. My mother had no idea how to live and would keep spending money even when we had nothing. She kept swiping her credit card and applying for more when that one fell through. She couldn’t accept not being part of the elite and later drank herself to death. My younger brother was pulled out of the expensive private school and forced to work part-time while finishing his high school degree. He became anti-social and too quiet.  

Despite everything that happened, my father never complained once. He blamed the bankruptcy on himself. He couldn’t manage the company successfully, so he tried his best to make it up to us. Unfortunately, he overworked himself and suffered from a car accident where he was left paralyzed. He needed intensive care and we tried our best to pay for the bills. For the first few months after college, I tried my best to find a job, yet no one wanted to employ me. I didn’t have any actual experiences. I didn’t join any clubs during university. My resume was a huge blank, and I was only banking on my last name. I was so lost then until I met my high school teacher one day while grocery shopping. He suggested that I could consider getting a teaching degree and after he could put in a good word for me to secure a spot at my old high school.

I should feel fortunate. Jihyo had supported me during my studies; she pitied me and decided to help pay for my tuition. The more she did for me, the more pressure I felt. I felt that I owed her my attention and love. I did give that to her. I married her and gave her a beautiful, healthy daughter. I work for the family. That should be enough now. I don’t know what else I can give.

“Are you even listening, Jungkook?” Jihyo is now sitting across from me and is frowning at me.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit tired from work,” I apologize.

She lets a tsk escape from her mouth before repeating, “I was saying that I got a phone call today. Your high school reunion is on next Friday. It’s in the city centre, but I think you should go.”

“Why?” I ponder. The last set of people that I’d ever want to meet are my high school classmates and friends. I don’t have the face to see them after all that has happened. I’m in a different world now from them, a world where their lives are extraordinary and mine is very ordinary.

Jihyo uses her fork to snap her meatloaf chunk in half. I grimace at her action. You should never use your fork in that way to make such a loud sound against the plate. I hope Bomi doesn’t pick up Jihyo’s table manners. “Because there might be some job opportunities or areas where we could think of investing,” Jihyo explains. “I’m sure they have some insider information!”

“I’d rather not,” I disagree. “We’re doing fine here anyway.”

“Fine? Bomi will need to start being tutored for Math and Mandarin,” Jihyo announces. “We also need money to save for her college tuition, but most of our money goes to your father. Say why isn’t your younger brother paying now? Hasn’t he finished college—“

“Can we not always talk about money?” I interrupt.

“Why can’t we? You know I supported you. Without me, you’d be nothing now,” Jihyo reminds me.

I know she’s right and that’s why it’s annoying. I can’t fight back at all. I’m not allowed to do that. If only I were rich again, I could just throw money in her face and shut her up. We probably wouldn’t ever fight about these things. We would be vacationing in Italy. I probably wouldn’t have married Jihyo. I probably wouldn’t have ever married.

I suddenly recall what Eunbin said to me at my wedding.

_Are you sure this is what you want, Jungkook?_

 

_I don’t get what you mean, Eunbin._

 

_Don’t lie to me. I’ve known for a long time . . ._

 

_Eunbin, stop playing around._

 

_Jungkook, I’ve known you ever since we were in pre-school. I know what I see._

 

_What do you see then?_

 

_A pitiful liar. I was honestly . . . hoping for your happiness. I know that Taehyung . . ._

 

_Taehyung is just a friend._

\---

I must be crazy because I listen to Jihyo and attend the high school reunion. I’m hoping to stick by Eunbin and have a drink or two. After a few drinks, I’ll be out of here, except a few of my high school pals recognize me.

“Jungkook? Is that you?” I turn around with a glass of wine in my hand to find Park Jimin asking me. Tagging along him are Kim Yugyeom and Min Yoongi. We were all close buddies during high school because we had our own band and played tennis together. Park Jimin was the head of the tennis club and the bassist. Meanwhile, Yugyeom played the guitar and Yoongi was the drummer. I was the one on the keyboard. Taehyung, our lead singer, was nowhere to be found.

Jimin looked like he had aged quite a bit, probably due to some binge drinking. He had developed a pot belly and grew out a full beard. This was completely different from fit, muscular tennis captain I knew from high school. However, Jimin still had that aura of a leader which I felt from his strong handshake. “My man!” Jimin jokes. “How have you been?”

“Good, I guess,” I utter. “You?”

“Busy as hell,” Jimin says. “Been flying back and forth to China, Bangladesh, and India.” Jimin probably took over his father’s manufacturing company. They make a lot of clothes for the popular fashion brands like H&M.

“Stop complaining,” Yugyeom chimes in. He has replaced his nerdy glasses with those hipster black-framed ones. He has turned from a scrawny, tall kid to an athletic guy. “At least you get to travel. I’m stuck writing programs at Microsoft.” Yugyeom was one of those unusual guys who didn’t rely on his parents’ wealth. Instead, he made a name for himself. I think I remember seeing him on TV. He was being interviewed for his thoughts on the next trends in technology.

“Right and you get the latest games too,” Yoongi grumbles. “I’m just faced with insecure women.”

“Yeah but you get to see boobs and butts all day,” Jimin points out.

“You get tired of boobs,” Yoongi answers. “You start noticing all the flaws and wanting to fix them.”

“That’s why they come to you for the boob job!” Yugyeom chuckles.

Yoongi seems to have become a plastic surgeon. I’m pretty sure he should be well-known in his field. I’m hoping that they don’t ask me what I’m doing these days. I really can’t beat what they have now. I know that teaching is a respectable profession, yet in their eyes, I’ve probably lost. We used to always make fun of the teachers at our school. They couldn’t find jobs anywhere else so they settled on teaching. I admit that it was immature and rude, but we were really in our own bubble besides . . . Kim Taehyung, the intelligent student who had a full scholarship to our school and to Seoul National University.

“Oh yeah, so what have you been up to exactly?” Jimin asks me the dreaded question.

“Well I—“

“I heard you’re now teaching?” Yoongi confirms. “At which university? Maybe I should send my son there. Wouldn’t that be funny? Him being your student? You can torment him all you want. He’s damn annoying.”

“Haha,” I mutter and sip on my wine.

“Yeah. Where are you teaching now? And how did you even get there?” Yugyeom poses. “I think I read in the papers about your father’s company failing. I was actually thinking of giving you a call then, but . . .”

Lucky for me, the MC starts to make some announcement and then welcomes someone onto the stage. One look at the speaker and I know that it’s Taehyung. After all these years, Taehyung hasn’t changed one bit. There are a few wrinkles here and there, but overall, Taehyung still has that slender physique, reminding me of a runway model. Of course, now Taehyung doesn’t wear plain clothes.

“Would you look at that now?” Jimin identifies. “Taehyung was recently interviewed for Forbes and Time magazine. I never thought this would happen. Who knew how surprising life could be?”

No, it wasn’t surprising. I always knew. I always knew that someday, Taehyung would conquer the world. Back then, everyone just saw Taehyung as a rough, uncut diamond. I saw the potential. I felt it too.

As I watch Taehyung on stage, our eyes meet and my feet already storm towards the exit of the hall. When I’m about to leave, Eunbin calls after me, “JK! How dare you not say hi to me?”

Eunbin and I end up taking a cigarette break outside of the entrance. As she passes me the lighter and a cigarette, I notice how bony her fingers have become. “You should eat more,” I tell her.

“I just have a high metabolism,” she informs me. After I finish lighting my cigarette and take a long awaited inhale of smoke into my lungs, I let out a sigh. “Some things don’t change huh?” Eunbin remarks while crossing her arms together.

“Really?” I ponder.

“Really. You still like to smoke when you have a lot on your mind,” she explains and leans her back against the wall of the building.

“I actually haven’t smoked since Bomi was born,” I answer.

“Then why today?” Eunbin questions with a stern face. When I refuse to answer her, she presses on. “I think I know why, but you’ll probably get mad when I say the reason.”

“Don’t say it,” I urge her.

Eunbin points the cigarette that’s in between her skinny fingers at me and declares, “I just don’t want to see you suffer, Kookie.”

“Since when did you become so caring?” I snicker.

“I’ve always been caring in my own way.” She giggles and rolls her eyes.

“Thanks, Eunbin. I think you’re probably the only one that has stood by me through thick and thin,” I claim.

Tossing the cigarette on the ground, she stomps on it a few times with her heels. “That’s not true,” she responds as I watch her feet twist and turn against the ground. “Taehyung visited your father a lot too and tried to—“

“Jungkook,” I turn my head towards the all-too-familiar voice. I see Taehyung wearing a beige Burberry trench coat and underneath that is a Brooks Brothers suit. As he waves at me, I notice his large Gucci watch and then I look into his eyes. There’s that look of distress coming from him.

“I guess it’s time for me to leave,” Eunbin mumbles and pats me on the shoulder. “Good luck pal. I wish you all the best.”

As Eunbin walks by me, Taehyung gives her a nod and then approaches me. “Jungkook . . . can we talk?” he asks.

“I need to go back home to my family,” I make an excuse to leave. “I have a daughter waiting for me.”

“Can you not walk away this time again? It’s been close to ten years and you’re still running away!” Taehyung shouts at me as I try to past him.

Running away.

It’s true. Ten years ago, Taehyung and I were close. We were so close that everyone thought that we were brothers by blood. Taehyung and I would do everything together. We even bathed together from time to time. We honestly had no boundaries at all. He would sleep over at my place. He would play with my hair and often gave me hugs. We would talk on and on about anything. Taehyung knew so much that he was like a walking encyclopedia. Whatever question I had, he could always answer. I loved hearing him talk about history. He made history so interesting that I eventually pursued it as my major in college.

 

Our friendship, however, broke off after high school graduation. On the day that we graduated, Taehyung told me that he wanted to tell me something. It was something that he had kept a secret for too long. I still remember that we were close to the cherry blossoms at the school garden that were blooming very early for that season. I was curious why Taehyung chose this location. It was a place where a lot of couples would eat lunch here or sometimes fool around in the area. Taehyung could have just told me while walking, yet he waited until we arrived in front of the old cherry blossom tree. 

 

_Then, with his eyes closed, he stated, “I like you, Jungkook. I like you a lot.”_

_What? I like you too! You’re my best buddy._

_No, Jungkook. It’s more than that. I love you._

Then, Taehyung forced a kiss on me. I was going to push him away, yet I remembered how soft his lips were and when he wrapped his arms around me, I could feel his slender body pressed against me. He felt good to hold in my arms. This moment lasted until Taehyung slipped his tongue in my mouth. Then, I resisted and ran off.

I didn’t speak to Taehyung for a while. Two years of university passed and Taehyung and I still hadn’t met up or talked. I spent a lot of time partying and trying to enjoy my life as much as possible. I had a lot of one night stands and short-term girlfriends. What haunted me was whenever I was intimate with them, I would remember Taehyung. His timid face, his prominent eyebrows, his large blank eyes, his bright smile, his round ears, his fluffy hair . . . I couldn’t forget about him, yet I knew I had to. So I chose the easy way out and partied till I passed out.

It was only during the winter break of my third year did I meet Taehyung again. Eunbin wanted to drag me to a gay bar because she thought it’d be fun. Taehyung happened to be there that night too but by that time, I was already quite drunk. One thing led to another and the next morning, Taehyung woke up naked beside me.

_This . . . this was a mistake._

 

_Jungkook . . ._

_I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was doing. Sorry._

I lied though. Although my memory wasn’t complete for that night, I still had recollection of parts of it. I remember how Taehyung moaned closed to my ear, how I kissed him gently on his neck and down his chest, and how he kept scratching my back because he was in pain. It was his first time.

_I love you, Jungkook. I’ll always love you._

A few classmates have now come out of the hall, so I pull Taehyung away and we settle on talking in my car. I start my engine and begin to drive aimlessly. Taehyung sits in the passenger seat without saying a word.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” I blurt.

“I’ve always wanted to apologize for that day,” Taehyung says. “I probably freaked you out by coming on so strongly onto you.”

“I should be the one apologizing for that night,” I reply. “I was . . . stupid.”

“You were,” Taehyung agreed. “I was really upset after you left like that. I thought my whole world was going to end, but the world never ended. Wasn’t I naïve?”

“That happens . . . when you’re young.”

There is this awkward silence between us before Taehyung finally says, “I’ve always wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?” I signal for a left turn. There seems to be a park nearby where I can park this van and we can get some peace to talk properly.

“Did you ever . . . have feelings for me?” he verifies.

My mind immediately answers yes yet nothing escapes my mouth. I keep driving until I park the car at the parking lot. There’s no one out this late at this park. When I unbuckle my seat belt, I sigh.

“I guess that’s a no,” Taehyung replies for me.

“Taehyung, that’s—“

He pulls my collar towards me and presses his lips on me. What a nice, nostalgic feeling, I think. I wish . . . time would stop. I wish . . . I could go back and change everything. I wish I could have been more honest back then. I wish . . . I wish . . .

This time, it is Taehyung who pulls away and states in a croaky voice, “Thank you, Jungkook. I know the answer now.”

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I . . .”

“Really. Don’t apologize. I’m just happy to know this,” Taehyung assures me, “and I’m sure now that what I’m going to propose won’t be rejected by you.”

My eyes widen in fear. Taehyung is staring at me in a way that I’ve never seen before. I’ve never expected him to remind me of the famous antagonists in novels and TV series, but I guess people change over time. I’ve changed.

“There’s no downside to my plan,” Taehyung states.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” I ask.

“You need money right?” Taehyung confirms. “You need to pay for your father’s medical fees and there’s also your family. You’re having trouble paying for the mortgage. I can let you and your family live comfortably if you agree to be my secretary.”

His secretary. I already know what that job would entail. If I were to accept it, I would be betraying my family, yet I realize that if I come back home empty-handed tonight, Jihyo will keep complaining about how useless I am.  

“I have a family you know?” I mutter.

“I think I mentioned ‘you and your family’, so yes I absolutely know that you have a family,” he emphasizes.

I never knew that Taehyung was capable of sarcasm. He was always shy, gentle, and sincere. Now, I see him slam his hand on a little fly that somehow got into the car. Before he would never hurt bugs, no matter how scared he was of them. How could Taehyung change so much? Was I the one that pushed him to be this way?

Taehyung all of a sudden burst out laughing. “Do you even know who has been your Daddy Long Legs all this time?” he speaks as I shake my head. “How did you get your job at our high school so quickly? How could your father get treated to the best doctor? How was your mother able to get those credit cards? How were you able to find such a nice house at such a decent price? Huh?”

All of the events he mentioned I suppose I took for granted. I never thought I was fortunate. I just thought fate guided me to his path. It was serendipity that I met my old high school teacher and he put in a good word for me. It was fate that allowed a famous doctor to do my father’s surgery. My mother was smart enough to convince bankers to open cards for her. As for the house, my realtor was skilled enough to find the perfect house for my family.

I’m reminded of what Eunbin told me a long time ago.

_You might think that there are coincidences, but I’m not a believer of that._

 

_Why is that?_

_I think things do happen for a reason but it’s because of something we’ve done._

“Tae . . . I . . . had no idea,” I murmur.

He scoffs and bobs his head from side to side. “You’ve always been like that . . . unaware of your surroundings and I was never going to let you know, but . . .”

“But?”

Taehyung gently caresses my cheek and exhales a deep breath. “But you don’t look happy at all and the Jungkookie I knew . . . has disappeared.”

“You’ve changed too,” I confess.

“For you. I worked so hard to save you,” Taehyung reminds me.

_JK, as your childhood friend and best friend, I’m warning you. You keep taking from others and you never claim responsibility for your actions. One day, these will all come and bite you back._

 

_Eunbin . . . are you cursing me?_

 

_No. I’m looking out for you._

 

_So based on your theory, does that mean that I owe something to you?_

 

_You can treat me to lunch or buy me a pack of cigarettes._

 

_I’m serious though. What do you want from me?_

 

_What I want, JK, is something that you’ll never be able to give me, so you’re lucky with me. You can just keep taking, but other people are different. Just remember that._

“You promise you will not let my wife and daughter know?” I ask that final question.

“They’ll only know that you’re my secretary and that we were high school friends,” Taehyung replies indifferently.

His pupils aren’t even wavering at all. He is looking at me with so much confidence and cruelty that I’m getting nervous. I know that what lies after my promise will potentially be disastrous. I’m not sure at this point whether Taehyung will actually keep his side of the bargain. I’m starting to wonder if I really know him anymore. Perhaps . . . I never truly understood him because I only saw the positive side of him and spun every flaw into a strength. Blinded? Blinded by . . . love? Is this love?

I really don’t know now.

I just know that I have to take responsibility.


	5. Caged

_All the things I could never do, you have to accomplish them for me._

I gasp in the middle of the night and wake up in cold sweat. No, I tell myself. No more. I’m living my own life now.

“N-N-Namjoon . . .” Jieun gently tugs my arm and stammers in a shaky, cracked voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I answer quickly, hoping that she wouldn’t ask more. I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t feel like talking about it at all. Talking won’t resolve anything. Instead, I choose to get up from bed and go for a run.

As I open the closet to grab my gym wear, Jieun murmurs, “Where . . . where are you going Joon? It’s  . . . like four in the morning. Can’t you go back to sleep?”

“No,” I only reply and proceed to change into my shorts and t-shirt.

“Will you be back for breakfast?” Jieun asks.

I don’t answer her and leave the apartment. I start running at a steady rate. I don’t know when I got into the habit of running. Maybe it was Hoseok’s fault? He recommended that I work out to get rid of my stress. He said it helps him take his mind off of everything, yet I find that when I run for a while, I keep circling back and forth to the events of my life and asking myself what went wrong. Why am I so annoyed nowadays? Why can’t I just be happy?

Objectively, I should feel fortunate. I graduated from a top university. I was the President of the Student Council. I competed in many business case competitions and won them. I had a few internships with the top banking firms in the country. My grades were stellar; I had a 4.0 GPA throughout all of my college. I was on the varsity team. My girlfriend, Jieun, is beautiful, smart, and friendly. She is also successful, perhaps even more so than me.

Then why do I feel so . . . incomplete? Why can’t I continue to be successful? Did I hit my mid-life crisis far earlier than others? Why do I get so irritated when I see Jieun now?

I met Jieun during my first year of college. I actually noticed her before we officially met since she was in our faculty and had been the target among my friends. She was known as the Ice Queen because although she was pretty, she seemed unapproachable. She didn’t smile so much and hardly went out clubbing. She also rarely approached guys first, but she still participated in a few student clubs like the Consulting Society, the Debate team, and the Badminton club.

My friends all wanted to date her or at least sleep with her. Several of them joined the clubs she was in to get closer to her or asked her to be in their group projects; however, many became disappointed with her personality. They complained that she was too blunt and too uptight. She didn’t do anything against the rules. She lectured whenever someone wasn’t doing his or her share of the work. She was too bossy and wanted to be in control of projects and assignments.

However, there were still other guys who adored her from afar. I secretly thought those guys were either masochists, wanted her to be the bread winner later, or simply liked strong, independent women. One of those guys was Jung Hoseok. He lived on the same floor as me, but we weren’t close back in first year of college. He was a bit of a loner like Jieun and kept to himself. However, I could tell that he liked Jieun because if he overheard a few guys talking badly about her, he would tell them to stop and not to judge someone based on gossip. He would always argue that her negative characteristics were actually positive ones. People gave up arguing against him because Hoseok was clearly superior to them.

Hoseok was blessed with all of the good things in life. He didn’t do much intensive exercise, yet he was still very fit. He could eat anything and his metabolism would be able to take it. On the other hand, I always had to be conscious of what I ate. I weighed my food, calculated the calories, and stuck with a very rigorous regime to be able to achieve my six pack. Hoseok also didn’t have to study much and still got excellent grades in class. I often overheard a few nerds ask Hoseok for his grade and he would say something like 92% or higher. This was achieved from not consistently attending class and sometimes even sleeping through them. What was worse was that he didn’t seem to be bothered by anything in his life. He was perfectly fine being the lone wolf and seemed to enjoy that role with that nonchalant, smug expression of his.

I eventually realized that there was something that Hoseok could never have. He wasn’t able to have a relationship for some odd reason or stopped himself from getting into one. There were a few girls in class who tried to flirt with him, yet Hoseok would never really pay much attention to them. He would respond with a few one-liners and that was all. His gaze always ventured in Jieun’s direction. Unfortunately, they sat in opposite corners of the room and in very different rows. Jieun was the eager type that preferred to be in the second or third row of the lecture hall, while Hoseok liked to be in the back row. I always wondered why he never approached her if he liked her that much. If that’s what he is missing, then . . .

I know I shouldn’t let the green foe get to me, but I’ve been conditioned to be better. My mother always told me to fight for the best and to be the best that I could ever be. I suspected that it was because she never got the chance to prove herself. My mother was a genius that excelled in all her subjects. She also graduated from a prestigious university and was set on becoming a doctor until she met my father. Since she came from a strict family where her father never, ever allowed her to have a boyfriend, she was drawn to my father’s laidback nature. He was everything she wasn’t and everything she dreamed that she could be. He was free like a wild lion. He was fun, handsome, and charming. He surprised her with little gifts and took her on adventurous dates like skydiving or an impromptu picnic at a forest. She was naïve then and had unprotected sex with him. Soon, she became pregnant, but my father wasn’t ready to settle down. He started travelling because he wanted to write a travel book. He just left her with a large belly, forcing her to go home and sob to her parents. According to my grandparents, she became very suicidal. There were many times when she wanted to kill me; one extreme moment was when she stabbed her own stomach with a pair of scissors. Oddly, I survived all of her reckless actions and was born as what my grandparents said as a “fighter”.

The weirdest part was when I was born, my grandparents said that my mother instantly fell in love with me. Her maternal instincts kicked in and she was determined to make me her tool for accomplishing all of her dreams. I was forced to learn many things at a young age, around three, and if I couldn’t master a skill, she would punish me with a belt or lock me in my room without food or even a candle. While she lectured me, she would always remind me never to be like my father. When I did something wrong, she would told me to stop acting like my father. When I started to mature and look more like my father, she got more irritated at me if I made a mistake. If I received a grade below her expectations, she would make me do hundreds of review questions. I was only allowed to go out with friends if I told her who they were and what their parents did. Sometimes, she would even ask me to befriend someone just because he or she had a good family background. She emphasized that I had to associate myself with useful people to be successful. I couldn’t even have a disorganized room even though I always had to consciously remind myself where I should have placed my book or even my clothes.

I didn’t realize that I was living in a cage until I slept over at a friend’s house in grade seven. His parents didn’t care if he didn’t make his bed. His parents didn’t get mad at him for getting a B in Social Studies. They even applauded him. He had a gentle mother who occasionally complained and a father who took him out to play soccer. My friend could stay out till 11 pm. I had to be home at 7 pm, latest and that was after warning my mother where I was the day before and why I was there. I could never ride public transportation by myself and my mother always drove me everywhere.

In everyone’s eyes, though, I was the perfect child. I was the “ideal” to meet. At parent meetings, the teachers would always tell my mother that they wished to have children just like me. They commended her for her great parenting and asked her for tips. My mother even started a popular blog about parenting. She was close to get a book signing when I was in middle school, except that Tiger Mom beat her to it. My mother was furious when that happened. She spent days throwing a tantrum, tossing everything she could see to the ground. I was the one that cleaned up everything and reassured her that she was the better one. Then, she became obsessed with pushing me further. She enrolled me in numerous Math competitions and even made me start rowing. She wanted me to be well-rounded so much so that I would win a full scholarship to a prestigious college.

I met all of her expectations and when it was finally time for college, I thought I would be free at last. All the chains would be broken and I could have a life. However, my mother kept me calling me every week. She wanted to know everything and demanded that I texted her every night to give her a summary of what occurred in the day. I started ignoring her, but within a month or so, she showed up at my residence unannounced. In front of my roommate, she acted like the perfect mother who was sincerely concerned with her son and even brought a lot of homemade food for us. Behind closed doors, she began feeding me my college success plan. I needed to meet as many well-established, wealthy students here and I had to have the perfect girlfriend. If I didn’t find one, she would look for people for me. She would access the student directory to find everyone in my faculty.

As much as I wanted to ignore my mother’s commands, her pressure got to me. Whenever I wanted to be intimate with a girl, I could hear her haunting voice.

_You can’t find a lousy wife. You have to find the perfect one._

My sex drive took a nose dive and I just wanted to get rid of my mother’s harassment. When I kept hearing about Jieun, I knew that she would meet my mother’s criteria and if Jieun could be my girlfriend, I would also be considered the winner among my friends. I even showed my mother a picture of her and a brief description of her accomplishments to be sure. As I suspected, she had my mother’s approval. All I had to do was execute the plan.

The Consulting Club was hosting an alumni networking event which would later involve some drinking at a bar. I thought this would be the perfect chance to meet her. Jieun would definitely attend this because she was the event coordinator of the club. I was right and so I approached her when I found her drinking by herself after speaking to a few alumni.

_Thanks for planning all of this. I heard from my buddy, Minho, that you did all this._

 

_You’re welcome. I’m glad you are enjoying the event._

 

_I am, but . . . networking can be a bit tiring._

 

_I agree. It’s quite draining actually and I’m not even sure how people can network while drinking. I mean who can remember who?_

 

_So true. I usually don’t attend these type of events, but I thought I’d give it a shot. Falling for that clichéd tip. Networking can open doors?_

 

_Haha. It’s a hit or miss. Some people are born naturals, whereas others are better off staying at home._

 

_I’m sure you’re one of those born naturals._

 

_Me? No! I’m so socially awkward._

 

_No way! You’re like . . . super well-known in the faculty._

 

_What? No._

 

_People all say that you have a pretty face, but I think you actually just have a kind heart._

 

I didn’t have that much of a hard time becoming Jieun’s boyfriend. After meeting so many people, I had gotten very good at reading others. She was definitely the type that just seemed tough on the outside. Inside, she was vulnerable and susceptible to any encouragement. She wanted to be seen as someone important, not because of her looks but because of her actual accomplishments. That was all she wanted: validation.

I could give that to her. It was easy for the first five years. I did everything Jieun would like me to do. I stayed as perfect as I could be. I continued to play that perfect gentleman. Everything was fine until I was fired from my first job for doing nothing wrong. I had pointed out something was wrong in front of my boss and showed all of the issues in the department to a higher level VP. Then I was fired. I couldn’t and still can’t understand why those imbeciles couldn’t see what was off. They were the losers. They were missing out. I’ll prove them wrong. I’ll definitely show them who is boss.

But . . . four years down the road, while Jieun climbed up the ranks at her company, I was rolling down the stairs. I wasn’t going to give up however. I’m a fighter. I was born to conquer, but Jieun didn’t understand. She kept pressuring me to go back to the workforce. She kept making me play that same damn role that failed. I didn’t dare tell my mother as well of my failure. I pretended that I was still working at a fine bank and had even been promoted. I even told my mother that Jieun and I were going to be married within a few years after we saved enough money. That was Jieun’s plan too.

However, I knew her plan would take forever. I needed everything to happen faster. I needed a catalyst, so I looked for one on the stock market. I was successful at first. Oil was becoming valuable, so I bought into that. I was just unlucky when the oil crisis came and I held on for too long that I was left with nothing.

During this time, Jieun kept nagging and pestering, reminding me more and more of my mother. The more I saw Jieun, the more I thought I was looking at my own mother. I couldn’t take more than a day with Jieun, and I started to feel that she was resisting me too. We barely slept together. She kept going on business trips and I felt that she was happy to escape me. I also felt a sense of relief without her around the house. I could do whatever I wanted.

I was free.

As my legs grow too sore to continue running, I stop at a local park to catch my breath. I check my phone and notice that it’s only 7:00 am. Most of the world is still asleep, yet I still get two text messages. One is from Jieun and the other is from Seungyeon. I ignore the one from Jieun and read Seungyeon’s.

_Have you decided yet?_

Seungyeon and I reunited two years ago after I had finished interviewing at another firm. She was the one that called after me because I hadn’t even recognized her. She looked completely different from before. She was no longer pudgy, acne-clad, and bare faced. Her whole face actually looked so different. I swear she reminded me of a bit of Park Boyoung mixed with Sandara Park and at this point, I was certain that many guys checked her out. Seungyeon invited me out for a drink at a fancy lounge and started to talk about herself. I felt like she was rehearsing her whole resume to me and I just smiled out of approval and waited for the moment where she was going to ask me about my life. Instead, she asked about Jieun first.

_How’s she doing? I miss her a lot!_

 

_She’s fine. She is busy with work these days._

 

_Where is she working at now?_

 

_At a consulting firm._

 

_Still at that same firm?_

 

_Yeah. She likes it there._

 

_You two moved in together? Getting married soon?_

 

_We’ve been living together for a while now. Marriage . . ._

 

_What’s wrong? Your relationship has hit a rock bottom?_

 

_Nothing is wrong._

 

_Don’t worry about it, Namjoon. You can tell me about it. We’ve known each other for so long. My own relationship isn’t working too well either._

 

_Why not?_

_Don’t tell anybody but . . . I’m . . . seeing someone who is already married. I know it’s bad, but I didn’t know that he was married at first and when I finally knew, it was too late. I fell for him._

 

_That’s unfortunate. I’m sure you can meet better people._

 

_But those type of people never seem to love me back._

Seungyeon gave me that look and I knew what she meant. She was referring to those days when I was with Jieun. I always knew that Seungyeon had a little crush on me, but there was no way that I would have dated her when I was already in a relationship with Jieun. I also saw through her. Despite her clinginess to Jieun, Seungyeon hated her just like how much Hoseok bothered me. Jieun and Hoseok were the same type, except Hoseok was worse. Jieun, at least, still tried to exert her all. Hoseok, at most, only gave 60% yet reaped returns of great than 100%. I think the reason that Seungyeon liked me was that she felt we were similar, but I didn’t want to be like her. I was better than that; I wouldn’t sink to that level. I deserved to be on the same level as Jieun and Hoseok.

But now, it seems like even Seungyeon is faring better than me. She has her own business and was on the cover of some famous magazine. Me? I’m really a nobody who has been improperly cast into the male lead role. I’m not even sure who I am anymore. One thing I am certain of is that I’m sick. I’m sick of following orders. I’m sick of rehearsing lines from a script. I don’t want someone else to direct my life anymore.

After drinking with Seungyeon, she and I stayed in contact. She would call me out for dinner and she would talk about her failed romance. She would cry over her insecurities and I would listen. She would try to make me talk bad things about Jieun, but I resisted. Jieun wasn’t at fault; I knew that she had a kind heart. Seungyeon grew impatient when I refused to speak poorly of Jieun and Seungyeon changed her tactic. She started to encourage me to follow my dream, whereas Jieun kept pulling me back. Slowly but surely, I couldn’t bear seeing Jieun’s face. I was afraid that I’d see the look of disappointment in her eyes. I also didn’t want to hear anything that my mother would say coming from Jieun.

_I’m doing this for your own good._

 

_All I do is for you._

 

_I’m just thinking what is best for you._

No.

You’re just fixated about yourself and your idea of me and us. I can’t fit into that picture frame which you’ve set for our future. No. No more.

Even though I made a mistake in between by accepting Seungyeon’s payment for giving her a child, I don’t want to have anything to do with that anymore. Seungyeon will just make me play another role. I refuse to act anymore, so I give her a call.

“You’ve finally decided to say yes?” Seungyeon first claims.

“No,” I object.

“You don’t care if I kill your own child?” she questions.

“I don’t care what you do with it. I never wanted to be a father in the first place,” I inform her. “I was wrong to listen to you. I will pay you back slowly over time. Good-bye.”

After I hang up the call, I turn off my cellphone and start to jog back in the direction of home. Soon, I’ll need to look for a new place. Maybe I’ll move to a different city this time. I’ve been here for too long. It’s about time for a change, probably somewhere I don’t know anyone. I’m not even sure what I’ll do exactly, but I think slowly I will know. 

The first actual step will definitely be to break up with Jieun. Our relationship should have ended ages ago, but both of us were frightened of change. We wanted to be stationary and safe. We wanted that false sense of security. Though I’ll probably look like the bad person in everyone’s eyes because they won’t understand why I’d leave the “perfect” girl, I have hit a point where I really don’t care about what others think anymore. My gut is telling me that it’s time to go and time to set Jieun free. Someone has to be the one that rips the Band-Aid viciously. I’ll be that one even though I know it’ll hurt.

What was that again?

Right.

There’s no gain if there’s no pain.

Oh . . . and life is fully of misery and I think I'll embrace that misery.


	6. Secrets

Can I tell you a secret?

I hear that question often. I’m not sure why everyone likes to spill all of their darkest thoughts or concerns to me. I’m like a grey plastic bucket tossed at the side of the road, collecting rain water from a leaky pipe. I’m just staying there and watching with a little question in my mind. When will someone listen to my secrets?

A pastor or a priest perhaps. I think in this world, only the pastors or priests that I’ve confessed to understand me. I say pastors or priests because I don’t bind myself to a specific Church. There’s always the chance that the pastor or priest will see you and get to know you better. I can’t have them understand everything, so I venture to different ones in the world and slowly confess my sins.

_Father, Forgive me for I have sinned. My last confession was _____ and these are my sins._

And every time, I am forgiven. No one judges what I have done. I just confess and cleanse my soul. I have been wandering all over the world, hoping to forget and to find my place in society. However, the more I roam, the more unsettled I become. I simply can’t stay somewhere for too long because then I’ll get homesick and I’ll want to come back home.

But . . . there is no spot for me at home. It’s not that my parents hate me or are strict towards me. Though my parents were busy building their Chinese fast food restaurant empire, they still did their best to look after me. I never hated them for leaving my older sister, Seulgi, and me home alone. I knew that what my parents did, they were doing it for the family. Seulgi was always caring and responsible; she acted more like my mother and since she was nine years older than me, she always gave me advice. I tagged along behind her whenever I could or I would drag Jungkook, who lived next door, to play with me. What happened more often was that my sister would bring Jungkook and me along to her social events and everyone would comment on how cute Jungkook and I were. Seulgi even took me to her dates with her boyfriends and they treated me like their own little sister.

As for my job, I’m a freelance journalist. Cool sounding right? It’s really just a fancy word in my books for “more or less unemployed”. Unemployment isn’t a concern of mine when I have been fortunate enough to be born in a loving family that never lacked money. We just lacked time to be together. When my parents’ business became more stable and they themselves were much older, they started to care more about family gatherings. Having a very elaborate dinner for Chinese New Year where everyone would congregate became even more important than Christmas. As for me, when I got older, I just wanted to stay away from these gatherings.

This morning I got a call from Seulgi, urging that I come back home for Chinese New Year. She said that everyone in the family, besides me, would be there. If everyone was there, then that would mean . . . A flash of his smile whizzes by in my head. His deep dimples set in as he calls out my name.

I shake my head a few times and remind myself that I need to start typing my new blog post. A few years ago, I started a travel blog for fun and somehow that slowly grew in popularity. A few hits per post turned into thousands and now hundreds of thousands. I never reveal my face in my photos or state my real name, yet people like to read my deepest thoughts. In fact, even my family has no idea that this blog exists. They all think that I just write articles for some websites or journals from time to time and I never care to explain what I do. They don’t need to understand nor do they care to understand. I should have been a doctor anyway or at least a teacher. A freelancer just sounds . . . unstable.

I admit that I’m a bit cheesy because I’m pretending to be a hipster. I’m at a semi-touristy café in Paris with an overpriced coffee resting to the right of my hand and a laptop in front of me. My table is also outside, so that I can try people watching. I’m just missing a cigarette; though I do smoke, I don’t like to smoke while drinking coffee. There’s too much bitterness in a go and so I order a chocolate croissant, giving that bitter coffee a good balance. See, I look the part of an artist but I definitely lack that creativity.

I haven’t typed a word yet. What am I supposed to say? I’m in Tokyo? I’m enjoying life? Am I? I’ve been to too many countries that I don’t know what I’ve been doing. I’ve met so many people that I can call anyone that I can carry a conversation with for more than a minute, a friend. Often, I don’t even remember these “friends” later. My Facebook has thousands of friends who I never ever talk again to. I think I’ve only stayed in contact with my few friends in college: Jieun, Namjoon, Seungyeon, and Hoseok. Jungkook, of course, I’ll always be close to him. I like to joke often that he is like my soul mate who I’ll never be with. We have this interesting bond where we feel like twins. Without saying a word, the two of us can tell how one another feels. That’s telepathy, isn’t it? But I’d like to think that we just know each other too well and that’s why we can never be together. We’re at the point where we will never fall for each other. That’s sort of like family, right? But if he were my real brother, I don’t think I could ever be that close to him. Life is . . . funny sometimes.

Speaking of funny, there’s a situation that I will always find hilarious: Hoseok’s longstanding crush on Jieun. Wait, Hoseok . . . why didn’t I even think of him? He even gave me his number in Japan. I should really meet up with him. I haven’t seen him in person since I graduated from college and it has been four years since I graduated. I quickly send him a text message to schedule a meet up. Knowing Hoseok, it’ll take him a day or two to reply. He was never the type to text. In fact, he is horrible at keeping in touch with others. I consider him slightly arrogant because although he misses people, he rarely goes out of his way to message others first. He just keeps his loneliness and memories in his heart, but . . . that makes us similar in many ways. We’re too similar, so we won’t fall for each other.

My fingers now type the word: death. I sometimes wonder what it’d be like just to take the leap. If I jump out of a forty-floor story window, how will I land? Will all that’s left of me is a pile of rotting brain matter? Will anyone remember me? Will anyone cry?

I don’t think so. I doubt I’m worthy of anyone’s tears and I’m scared to know the answer so I haven’t jumped in real life. I’m petrified to see a funeral without any attendants. I’m also frightened that one day all of my secrets will unravel. What I really want to do . . . I can never do.

_How are you doing? It has been a while._

 

_What are you up to?_

 

_You look tired. Are you doing fine?_

 

I just ask these questions in my head. I don’t even creep on his Facebook anymore. I’ve stopped notifications from him out of fear. I’m supposed to forget about him, but it’s . . . hard.

Beep.

_Hoseok: Where are you?_

 

_Me: Tokyo!_

 

_Hoseok: Yeah I know that, but where in Tokyo exactly?_

 

_Me: You’re replying very quickly. How unusual._

 

_Hoseok: Cut the teasing. You’re free to meet up now?_

_Me: Maybe._

 

_Hoseok: Just text me the address. I’ll be there asap._

 

_Me: Fine._

Some twenty odd minutes later, Hoseok shows up in front of me and casually orders a cup of black coffee in front of me. He does remind me of black coffee: bitter, dark, blunt, and awful when cold. It takes time to be accustomed to him. He isn’t the sort that will attract your attention at first, but later he becomes like a drug, an everyday necessity.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok now sips on his cup, sitting upright like a proper gentleman. “You’re staring at me without saying a word.”

“Hey . . .”

“Go on?”

“You still love Jieun right?” I ask.

He almost chokes on his drink but pretends that he is only coughing. “That’s a stupid question to ask,” he remarks coolly.

Of course it’s stupid, I think. The two of us know that we’re not supposed to love someone for so long without any hope of our feelings being reciprocated, but we’re stuck in a situation where our logic can’t defeat our emotions. It’s a stalemate. It’s a game of chess where no matter what step we take, we have to surrender our queen.

“Then I guess this won’t interest you,” I utter.

“What won’t?” he crosses his leg and ponders.

“Obviously it’s about Jieun, but since you don’t care about her anymore then—“

“What is it?” he cuts me off.

I can see his arms that are crossed clench harder onto his skin and a smile creeps from the corner of my mouth. “So you do still love her,” I blurt, blinking a few times.

Hoseok scoffs at me and reveals an arrogant grin. “Hey,” he copies me.

“What?”

“You’re still the same,” he says. “We’re both the same huh?”

I just grin at him. It’s true. We haven’t changed a bit ever since we met the first time. Hoseok and I met on the back porch of the house we shared. I knew he had moved in and had greeted him once formally. However, after that initial greeting, I didn’t interact with him anymore. I consider that back porch meeting our first. Several months had passed since he had moved in. I was drinking a can of beer in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep. I had already smoked several cigarettes, so there were a few of them scattered beside me. I remembered hearing some rustling, which caused me to turn around and then our eyes met. Hoseok didn’t even say a word and walked away. I thought he was rude for not even apologizing, but a few minutes later, he came marching towards me with a box of tissues. He handed that box without uttering anything. As soon as I received it, Hoseok headed the other way. He would have succeeded in escaping from me had I not called out to him.

_“You,” I stated. “You can’t sleep either huh?”_

 

_“No,” he refuted. “I was just thirsty and went down to the kitchen for a drink. Then I saw someone here, so I thought I’d be careful.”_

 

_“I’m sorry then for bothering you,” I noted._

 

_“It’s fine.”_

 

_Hoseok stood there stupidly in front of me for a minute or so. We were a couple of meters away from each other. He was at the door leading to the porch, while I sat at the edge of it. We looked at one another in silence until I blabbed, “You’re not going to ask me why I was crying?”_

 

_“There’s no point,” he told me._

 

_“You’re not curious at all?” I wondered. “I thought everyone loved gossip and secrets.”_

 

_“Secrets are supposed to stay as secrets,” he said. “That’s why they’re called secrets.”_

_“Hahahaha!” I raised the can of beer with one hand and with my other, I covered my eyes and let more tears roll down. “Cheers!”_

 

_“I don’t think there’s anything to celebrate,” he countered._

_I snickered, “You’re really a party pooper, you know?”_

 

_“I’ve been told that a lot,” he murmured._

 

_“But I like that,” I stated. “We’re similar you know?”_

 

_“What makes you say that?” he questioned._

 

_Placing my finger on my lips, I giggled. “Shh. It’s a secret and secrets are supposed to stay as secrets.”_

 

_I don’t think I ever told Hoseok why I was crying that night. Hoseok never asked anyway because he knew I wouldn’t have told him regardless. After that incident, Hoseok and I acted like close strangers. I could easily tell why he had been up that night because the next day, I saw Jieun with a few hickeys around her neck and chest and Hoseok was quieter and sterner. He wouldn’t even talk properly to Jieun and just responded with simple one-word answers. His hands also gave him away. He was holding so tightly onto his knife as he sliced through his pancake that I thought the plate would have cracked. It was too easy to read him for me, and similarly, it was easy for him to read me._

 

_One day, there was only Hoseok and I at the house and the doorbell rang. I was too lazy to go downstairs to see who it was, so Hoseok eventually went to answer the door. As soon as I heard the high-pitched, squeaky voice, I knew who it was: my older sister, Seulgi. Hoseok was stupid enough to tell her that I was at home, so I had to force myself to face my worst fear._

 

_“Sis !” Seulgi squealed. “Why haven’t you even called? It’s Thanksgiving! Jin and I were in town because you know, his parents live around here too and we thought . . . why not stop by here for a while and say hi to you?”_

 

_“I’m busy,” I told her. “There are midterms coming up. I don’t think I have time to meet up.”_

 

_“What? Don’t lie to your sis. I’ve done college before and I know that—“_

 

_Jin squeezed my sister’s shoulder and grinned politely at me. “Darling, let’s not bother her if she doesn’t want us here.”_

 

_“B-B-But—“_

 

_“Eunbin,” Jin declared in softly. “We’re sorry for disturbing you and . . .”_

 

_He glanced at Hoseok and immediately, I clung onto Hoseok’s arm and lied, “Hoseok. He’s my boyfriend.”_

_I could feel Hoseok struggle, but that only made me hold tighter onto him. Please, I was begging in my head, just cooperate with me for a bit._

 

_“So that’s why you’ve been so MIA!” My sister jeered and winked a few times at me. “Fine. I won’t bother you and your sweetheart. Come on, Jin!”_

 

_She linked arms with him and waved a good-bye at us. As I watched the two of them disappear, I could feel my heart sink. Once the couple drove off, Hoseok grimaced at me and lectured, “I’d prefer you letting me know beforehand if you’re going to use me as part of your plan.”_

 

_“I didn’t know they were coming here,” I told him. “I’m sorry.”_

 

_“It’s fine,” he replied. “I get it. I would have probably done the same if I were in your shoes.”_

My coffee meeting with Hoseok ends optimistically for him because he has a chance with Jieun now. I always thought they would be together in the end. Jieun and Namjoon were never suited for one another. They were too perfect. They were too fake as a couple. They reminded me of a calendar featuring the theme of “love”—a stage. Hoseok and Jieun, on the other hand, I think . . . they would complement one another.

“What about you?” Hoseok all of a sudden asks as we are walking along the Seine River.

“What about me?” I play dumb.

“Have you moved on?” he asks.

I kick a tiny pebble in front of me while my hands hold onto each other behind my back. “I’m stupid too,” I admit with a weak smile.

“But you’re not that stupid either,” he tells me.

“You’re just being kind.” I cackle.

“I’m not,” he argues. “You haven’t crossed the line, so . . .” He doesn’t go on as soon as he notices my grin. “Don’t tell me that you—“

“Shh,” I put my index finger to my lips. “It’s a secret.”


End file.
